


you're the prettiest smartest captain on the team (i love you more than being seventeen)

by twentyfivepercent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, They just love each other a lot, but also some weed, it's very cliche but the canon is too cruel for anything other than cliche, margaery is a cheerleader that is probably asb president, margaery too, peer pressure but not that much, sansa deserves and has nice things, sansa's in marching band, they're just soft and sweet to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfivepercent/pseuds/twentyfivepercent
Summary: Margaery is everything Sansa isn’t, and that makes it so much better.





	you're the prettiest smartest captain on the team (i love you more than being seventeen)

**Author's Note:**

> after a year of prozac and a lot of fake confidence, here is my first work to be ridiculed or hopefully liked.  
> it's just sansaery being cute like they always deserved to be
> 
> title from The Strokes - Evening Sun

Sansa doesn’t know why the entire thing feels so  _ illicit.  _ Because honestly, it’s not  _ that  _ bad. Being pressed against the band’s uniform racks by the head cheerleader during halftime must be a semi-normal event, right?

_ I’m sure this happens a lot.  _ She thinks as Margaery’s hands slip under her uniform top, before she moves the other girl’s hands to the back to unzip her. Gods, whoever made the uniforms really did well with fitting, but they really needed to consider how difficult it was to have your girlfriend cop a feel with it on. 

Margaery got the hint pretty quickly, pulling down the zipper until the coat slumped forward. She hummed at the removal of one layer, pulling away from Sansa to fully remove the jacket. With the leaving of Margaery’s lips on hers, Sansa regains the semblance of sense. 

She looked down (honestly, a pretty great change from boys) at Margaery, hair mussed and lips bruised in the dark. She kind of wants to disregard the bit of reason left in her to pull Margaery into another kiss. But. She’s a little less intoxicated with Margaery’s everything, and another kiss is another moment she seriously considers exchanging any sense of decency for the feel of Margaery Tyrell. 

Sansa stills Margaery’s hands by the elbows as she finally gets the jacket off. She’s standing there in the night air with only a thin t-shirt and bibbers on, Sansa still feels like electric is running hot under her skin. 

Margaery looks at her with sweetly questioning brown eyes, and Sansa almost loses her resolve right there. 

“This might not be the best… place,” Sansa says breathlessly, gesturing around at the open field around the racks. “I mean, I’m really happy with what’s happening, but you know… Like, someone could come over, and I know that you’re cool with it and--”

Margaery silences her with a quick kiss, and grins. “I’m glad you’re happy with what’s happening,” Sansa can’t help blushing, Margaery always manages to make her say too much. “But, yeah, I get it. I don’t think we’re ready for public sex at this stage in our relationship either.”

Sansa feels more heat rise to her face, somehow, there always seems to be more blood that can come to her face. 

Margaery gets up on her toes again, and Sansa is a little scared she’s going to kiss her again and make her completely okay with public sex, but she just pecks her on the nose. As much as Sansa’s relieved, she misses the contact immediately. 

“Can we sit down?” Margaery asks, “I’m a little tired of being on my feet.” She’s been on her feet all day, doing one thing or the other, and as much as Sansa admires her for it, she hates how much work Margaery ends up doing.

There is a solid platform beneath the uniform racks, and Sansa pulls Margaery down to sit, even though it’s utterly uncomfortable and garment bags are digging into their backs. She hands Sansa back her jacket with something undeniably smug on her face. “You cold?”

Sansa rolls her eyes. She is getting chilly, despite the temperate weather in King’s Landing. “Yeah, a little.” Shrugging on the jacket, she turns her back to Margaery, “Zip me up?” 

She does, fairly quickly, punctuating the action with a kiss to the back of her neck. A cold kiss, and Sansa shivers. “Are  _ you _ cold?” 

“A little bit,” she shrugs, and Sansa wonders if Margaery’s varsity jacket is actually warm, “It’s hotter in the Reach.” 

“I think I have a spare pair of pants in my bag, you want me to get it?” 

Margaery’s mouth widens to a shit-eating grin, “Offering for me to get in your pants, Stark? Bold. I like it.”

Sansa gives an indignant scoff, but rises to get her pants. A hand darts out to grab her wrist as she rises and she gets pulled down onto her ass again. “I’m good, you’re warm enough.” She sidles closer to the taller girl. “And also, do you have a lighter?”

“Excuse me?”

Margaery laughs, and Sansa thinks even if she said she wanted to go burn down the football stadium with a lighter and gasoline  _ right now,  _ she’d do it with only a few questions. Margaery was a little cold after all; she could have whatever fire she wanted.

She shifted through her pockets for a moment and pulls out a bag with a few blunts in it. She gave Sansa a grin and a raise of her eyebrows that seemed to say:  _ let’s do this.  _

Sansa breathes out a puff of surprised air. Margaery was going to surprise her until the day she dies. In an attempt to be blas é , she rolled her eyes and says “Don’t we have to be back in a few minutes?”

“Please,” Margaery laughs, “Cersei and Tyrion are probably off doing the same thing right now.” She wasn’t really wrong either, so excuse one has run out the door. Cersei would probably be glad to see Margaery missing from the line-up, and Tyrion did not care if a random flute wasn’t playing pep tunes in the stands. If they weren’t off drinking of course, and most likely they were. 

“I don’t really smoke,” Sansa tried to say smoothly.

Margaery’s eyes widened. That was exactly what Sansa did not want. She probably thinks she’s so young and sheltered and--

“It’s okay then,” Margaery says, “Do you mind if I do?”

_ Really, Margaery has to be the perfect girlfriend doesn’t she  _ Sansa thinks, even if she wanted to wrap her arms around the other girl. “Nope. I think Theon’s left a lighter around her somewhere too.”

Getting up to go poke around in Theon’s bag and pay him back for all the times he stole her socks before a show because he forgot his own and she keeps a spare, Margaery starts talking.

“You know, I kinda feel bad for not knowing you didn’t smoke. Like, how did I not know that?” 

“It’s okay, I don’t really go around starting conversations with  **no weed** , so it makes sense. Plus,” She zips open Theon’s bag, grabbing along the bottom, “Bran’s a total stoner, so I have a supply too.” Her hand landed on something vaguely lighter sized and plastic. 

“But I should have known, you know?” Sansa’s heading back and Margaery’s lain completely flat on the uniform rack. “No drugs is part of your whole  _ thing _ .” 

Sansa sits back down and Margaery gets back upright, looping her arm through Sansa’s. “What  _ thing _ ?”

“Please,” She takes the yellow lighter from Sansa, “You know.” 

The fire from the lighter outlines Sansa’s scandalized expression, and the end of the blunt glows orange-red. “I do  _ not  _ know.”

“Sweetling. You’re in band. You always have your hair up. I don’t even think I’ve seen you drink anything other than water and half a cup of beer. I’m afraid I should have known you wouldn’t smoke.” She takes a long drag. Sansa is a little hypnotized by the way the light quickly eats at the paper of the blunt. When Margaery breathes out, a stream of smoke climbs from her nose.

She wants to disagree, but doesn’t really have an argument. The half cup of beer was already an overstatement. 

“I’m not opposed to it or anything,” she grumbles after a good moment of silence. 

Margaery turns her head to look at Sansa. “Really.” 

“Yes, really.” She feels a little like a child saying she can wear adult clothes now, but she reminds herself that, yes, she fits adult sizes. She’s bloody seventeen. And bloody tall too. 

“Really.”

“Yes!”

Margaery takes another hit and moves her hand to Sansa’s cheek, nudging her face towards Margaery’s. She leaned closer slowly, the kind of slow that said  _ if you don’t want this, it’s okay.  _ And if it’s coming from Margaery’s lips, she can’t find a reason not to close the distance. 

Sansa melts into the kiss like she always does. When Margaery’s lips are against hers, Sansa thinks maybe  _ that  _ is why the world was created. Her mouth parts and with Margaery’s exhale, smoke creeps into her lungs. For a moment she feels like she could live off of Margaery’s breaths. That they could survive underwater together if they wanted to. 

The next moment, she very much takes back that statement. Sansa hacks out smoky coughs, and she thinks:  _ don’t do drugs, kids.  _ She feels breathless and also like her lungs are full, and it’s terrible and she blames Margaery completely.

When she recovers, gasping, she levels a glare at Margaery. Margaery, lips pressed together to keep from laughing, takes the glare as a cue to bring her giggles to voice. The sound of it may have mostly dissipated any possible grudge, but she continues to stare accusingly at Margaery. It just makes Margaery laugh more. Sansa can’t exactly control the grin that breaches her face.

“Margaery!” 

The person in question feels completely guiltless. She just smiles and looks at Sansa with barely contained adoration. 

“Gods, you’re adorable, you know that?” There still is a shaking humor to her voice. She leans up and presses their lips together again, which is a little unfair in Sansa’s eyes. She can’t properly sustain an emotion when Margaery’s kissing her. She also can’t find herself caring about that when Margaery’s kissing her. Because their lips are moving so smoothly together, and the way that feels should be an emotion in itself. 

It feels wildly premature when Margaery pulls back, even if a few years would have also been premature, and Sansa pouts. She just smiles again, reaching up to tuck some hair fallen from Sansa’s bun behind her ear. There’s a softness about her, then, that only and also rarely Sansa gets to see. 

Those bright brown eyes weren’t thinking or finding a comeback to every insult, they were just looking. She was smiling. Not the kind where she was putting on a face to be unequivocally charming or the kind where she was smiling just because it seemed right. It would be wrong to call Margaery Tyrell fake, but she was unquestionably calculated. And now, she looked like she didn’t know what to do next. 

“I really like you, Sansa Stark,” she said, somehow vulnerable and guarded at once. A hand came up to cup Sansa’s cheek, and almost habitually she leaned into the touch. 

“I really like you too, Margaery Tyrell,” was all she said before pulling her into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope that was okay because those two deserve more nice fics


End file.
